


Serendipity

by aliceslantern



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, babies ever after, ienzo is afab trans, really i wanted an excuse to write more zemyx smut, so so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:06:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceslantern/pseuds/aliceslantern
Summary: ser·en·dip·i·ty | n -- the occurrence of an unplanned fortunate discovery.It's all fun and games until someone gets pregnant.
Relationships: Demyx/Ienzo (Kingdom Hearts), Demyx/Zexion (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	1. Whirlwind

Ienzo hated parties.

No; "hate" was a strong word. As an eternal introvert, parties took a lot from him, and required several days' of mental preparation. But it was not always avoidable.

And anyway, he  _ did _ want to go to this party. It wasn't often a childhood friend got their own gallery show, after all. There would be art and wine and probably intellectual conversation--something as designed for Ienzo as possible other than the social interaction. He sighed. All Naminé had said about the dress code was to "wear black" and the only thing he had since his unfortunate rebellious goth phase was a slightly-too-tight turtleneck that made him acutely aware of the fact that he was not in shape.

There was no point caring about his appearance. Who did he have to impress? If he cared, he'd actually do something about the hair growing directly into his eyes. 

Ienzo was early. The city streets were narrow, and he needed a parking space. He walked slowly to the door of the gallery, trying to gather himself and smile. Naminé was already inside, of course, talking to one of the curators and adjusting the tilt of the frame  _ just _ slightly. A few people were milling about, picking at the crudités that had been left out. He should've been later. Easier to blend in.

Well. No point backing out now. Once she turned away from the curator, she spotted him and smiled. "You made it," she said. "I thought someone was going to have to drag you." She leaned in for a hug.

"Congratulations," he said earnestly. "I do hope everything is for sale? I'd love to support you."

She waved a hand vaguely. "I'm just so in shock, to be honest. First time I haven't had to  _ pay _ to be featured anywhere, never mind possibly making a profit. It  _ does _ look so odd, right? To think most of this lived behind my couch until yesterday afternoon."

"Well, it's very much deserved," he said honestly. "It's about time someone noticed your talent."

She blushed. "Do you want any wine? Any snacks? It's all offered by them, so don't be shy."

He sighed. "That would be prudent, wouldn't it?"

By the time she'd walked him over, a handful of other people had entered the gallery, all of them wanting to congratulate the artist. Alone in her flowy white dress, she looked very much like a spec in the darkness. Pretty, free, glowing from the attention. 

Ienzo spent a half hour or so wandering the gallery, with its exposed brick walls. It was nice, to have the excuse not to talk. She'd done a series based on portraiture and memory, something he forgot entirely until he was looking at a (thankfully small) charcoal sketch of his own face. Naminé had a bad habit of drawing anything not nailed down, and asking permission later.

"Hey, that's you!" a man said. Ienzo looked up.

He was blonde, his undercut gelled on the top. His black shirt was wrinkled and French-tucked. Ienzo knew this person was familiar, but wasn't sure how. Small town?

"Well--yes," he said. "I forgot I consented to sharing this."

The man reached up almost to touch the sketch. "She's talented, isn't she," he said, positively glowing with pride. "Oh! I'm not a creep, I'm her brother." A wry laugh. "Demyx. Hi." He offered his hand.

"...Ienzo. Pleasure." His hands were rough, callused.

"Oh, I know," he said breezily. Then, at Ienzo's blank look, "you're her friend. She talks about you."

"I'm sorry--all the years I've known her and she's never shown me a photo of you."

He laughed. "Our family is… weird," he said slowly. "It doesn't surprise me."

"...I see," Ienzo said. He wondered if it would be rude to go get more wine. "I suppose… every family has its quirks."

He nodded once. There was something in his teal eyes that contradicted the friendliness of his expression, something sharp and aware. Something that--to his chagrin--Ienzo found fascinating. But why? 

"Are there any of you?" he asked lamely.

Demyx laughed again, that awkward, staccato sound. "Yes," he said. "It's--ah, over here." He rested a hand on Ienzo's shoulder and pointed him to another painting. Ienzo wouldn't have known it was a portrait unless he was told; blue green swirls and a flash of blonde showed an abstracted version of a person. "I almost drowned when she was little," he admitted. "I think she took it to heart."

"...I see." Ienzo looked over through his bangs at this man. He saw, very quickly when Demyx thought he wasn't looking, the man give him a once-over.

Ah.

He couldn't deny that he also found him attractive, despite the man being most definitely not his type (with that hair?). It was the look in his eye. The something more. "So what do you do?" Ienzo asked. 

"Well, I'm also kind of an artist," he said. "A musician."

Figured. "...I see," he said politely. Well. No matter dwelling on a passing attraction.

"But for my day job I teach," he added, wrinkling his nose. "Music. At the college."

Ienzo's eyebrows shot up. (His heart fluttered.) "You're a  _ professor _ ?"

Demyx snorted. "I don't look it, right? But I can prove it." He took out a beat-up wallet and brandished a faculty ID. "Read it and weep."

"You just look so--young," Ienzo said lamely.

Demyx shrugged. "It was sort of a happy accident," he admitted. "I was finishing my master's and the guy they hired to teach theory I and guitar crapped out. They offered me the job for a semester, and, well, I guess they liked me enough to stop looking." He grinned. "I tend to thrive under the radar. Want more wine?"

Ienzo's heart was racing. "Yes. Please."

* * *

They ended up talking for hours. Long enough for the gallery to close, for Naminé to waggle her eyebrows at him when she saw them sitting together. Long enough for Demyx to ask him to get another drink. Ienzo wasn't sure if it were his tipsiness, but this conversation didn't exhaust him the way previous dates so often did. It wasn't until the bartender was asking for last call did he realize how late it was--that, and he was in no shape to drive home. "Oh, goodness," he said. "I'm afraid I got carried away."

"Like how?"

"Like--I came out expecting to spend two very  _ proper _ hours admiring my friend's art. Here we are."

Demyx smiled. "I don't know why she was hiding you," he said. "I've had… a lot of fun."

"Me too," he said earnestly. 

"Would you want to go on an actual date sometime?"

He smiled. He was tired enough not to psych himself out. "Absolutely." He sighed. "Though I'm afraid I'm in no condition to take myself home."

"You could crash at mine," Demyx suggested. Then, seeing Ienzo's expression, "on the couch! Not what I meant at all." He chuckled. "Or I can call you an Uber."

"Is it far?"

"A couple of blocks. Think you can make it?"

"I'm not that drunk--just shouldn't drive."

He followed him out of the bar. It was very late, the moon hanging high in the sky, making everything quiet and silver. Demyx slid his hand into Ienzo's. He felt a little thrill, trying to recall the last time he'd enjoyed being touched so. His own attempts at dating hadn't exactly been fortuitous. Rarely did he ever meet anyone on an app that inspired  _ real _ chemistry. 

"I love this time of night," Ienzo said. 

"Me too," Demyx said. "Nobody has expectations--the world is asleep. So calm. I come up with my best stuff at night. It's like I can breathe."

He bobbed his head. "I do sometimes have trouble with that. The annoying grind of mundanity. Easy to lose yourself."

"Yeah." He smiled sadly. "Well, here we are. Second floor."

It was a relatively new apartment building. The stairwell smelled like Pledge and dust. When Demyx unlocked the door, a small gray cat meowed indignantly. 

“That’s just Janice,” Demyx said. “Come on. Be nice,” he added to the cat.

It sniffed Ienzo’s hand and nuzzled him. Blearily, Ienzo took in the apartment. It definitely seemed to belong to a bachelor--the furniture was plain and shabby, and the “couch” was a futon. The coffee table was a pair of milk crates with a board over it. There were some band posters on the wall. Thankfully the place seemed clean. It actually had good bones; the appliances seemed relatively new, the cabinets real wood.

“I’ll get you some blankets,” Demyx said. “Bathroom’s through there if you need. I might have a new toothbrush somewhere--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ienzo said. “I’d hate to trouble you. Really.”

He blinked wearily. “Alright. Hang tight.” He came back with two blankets and a pillow. “Wifi password’s on the router.”

“Thanks again.”

He smiled. “Of course. Hope you sleep well.”

Ienzo was too exhausted to do much more than curl up on the lumpy futon. His tipsiness was good to him, and he drifted off. 

* * *

Ienzo woke up to gold sunlight coming in through the blinds. There was something warm by his feet; he sat up slowly and saw the cat curled at the foot of the futon. 

So. This had all happened. 

Ienzo rolled onto his back and watched the light play on the ceiling. It had been a long while since he’d had so much fun on a date. It felt almost… odd. He’d told himself he was too busy to date, too set in what he wanted. But honestly? If he had seen Demyx on one of his apps, he probably wouldn’t have given him a second glance.

He heard movement from the other room. The other man was still in pajamas, his hair mussed and loose around his face. “You sleep okay?”

“Like a rock--then again, I always do when I’m drunk.” He sighed. “Thanks again.”

He smiled. “Don’t mention it. Better than you trying to get yourself home. Though I have to admit, it’s rare Janice cuddles up to a guest.” He leaned over to pet the cat, giving Ienzo a peek of his (surprisingly toned?) chest under the collar of his T-shirt. “Coffee? Tea?”

“I’d hate to be any trouble--”

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Which is it?”

“Whichever you’re having, I guess.”

He was handed a mug of black coffee. “I never asked what you do,” Demyx said. “We talked about so much stuff  _ other _ than our actual lives.”

“I’m a librarian,” he said. “I work mostly in the research department.”

“Do you like it?” He sat on the other end of the futon.

“I love books, and I love research,” he said honestly. “It’s the best of both of those things. Sure, sometimes I have to help certain… characters with questionable projects, but it’s worth it to have so many resources.”

He cocked his head. “What do you research?”

“What  _ don’t _ I research?” Ienzo asked, with a sigh. “Whatever strikes my fancy at the moment, I suppose, but I have a soft spot for linguistics and psychology. And gothic literature, but as my father is fond of telling me, that won’t pay the bills.” He rolled his eyes. “The joys of capitalism.” 

Demyx laughed. “Sounds like he’s fun at parties.”

Ienzo smiled. “Oh, incredibly,” he said sarcastically. “But he… means well. Very doting.”

“Are you two close?”

“Closer than we were when I was a child,” Ienzo admitted. “His husband came ready-made with a child, and that transition wasn’t necessarily easy.” He wasn’t sure why he was saying all this. “You are… astoundingly easy to talk to.”

“Thanks, I’ll be here all week.” He looked into his mug, the glint in his eyes becoming sad. “I don’t remember my parents much,” he said.

“Naminé never brings them up.”

“They were… not so into childrearing,” he added, with a shrug. “Especially when I got older… there’d be food in the fridge, checks in the mail, but for the most part they sort of did their own thing. They call, once every few months, to see if we’re still alive, but that’s about it."

“So you were kind of on your own,” Ienzo said. 

“Eh, I try not to get too hung up on it,” Demyx said. “No point, right?”

“I suppose not.” The coffee was strong, warming the pale shadow of his mild hangover.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of the mug. “So about that date,” Demyx said. “The library’s closed on weekends, right? How about today?”

Ienzo felt his face warm. Normally he’d need more warning, more time to mentally prepare himself, and to groom. But something about Demyx’s nature made that not matter. “Sure. Why not?”

They spent most of a day wandering around town, grabbing meals when appropriate, talking. Walking around the park, talking. Ienzo didn’t know how many words he’d been holding inside until they were coming out. It felt so  _ good _ to hold Demyx’s hand, or to feel it on the small of his back. Something about it was so familiar. So… comfortable.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight. And it wasn’t love, not yet; but rather an intoxicating slurry of attraction and interest. Something that could… become. Perhaps this was why when Demyx asked him if he’d like to come up for “a cup of coffee” at the end of the day, he said yes.

And to be fair, there  _ was _ coffee; they just didn’t drink much of it. 

Ienzo found himself making out with him on that horrible lumpy futon. He wasn’t averse to casual sex, had done it multiple times, but typically when actually  _ dating _ he didn’t immediately hop into bed with that person right out of the gate. With Demyx, he was absolutely breaking all of his own rules--seeing a creative, not making an extra effort with his appearance, not taking the time to fully  _ process _ things before moving forward. But oddly, the rush of this made that all not matter.

Ienzo was sitting in his lap. He wasn’t sure if this made it better or worse, but Demyx was a  _ very _ good kisser, especially compared to his last failed date. Ienzo’s mind stubbornly did  _ not _ wander as it was normally wont to in these situations. Demyx’s hair was deceptively soft as he tangled his hands in it. Too soon, Demyx broke away. “This isn’t too fast for you, is it?” he asked breathlessly.

“No. Not at all.”

“Good. I just… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this.”

“What, instead of taking your time seducing me?”

He giggled. “Well, kind of.”

“I don’t usually either,” Ienzo admitted, kissing his jaw, his throat. Demyx was pressing up against him, the strangeness of hardness against denim. Despite himself, he felt his heart skip, this time with an anxiety. They’d talked about so many things, but not so much about one of the most important. He took a breath; and broke another one of his rules. “I… have to tell you something.” He swallowed.

“What?” Demyx touched his face. “Are you a virgin or something?”

“No, but it… might change things?” 

“You’re shaking,” Demyx said. “What is it?”

He hated that he constantly had to explain himself. “I’m… trans. Transgender?” He shut his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you want to cut things where they are.”

His expression was hard to read. “Oh.”

“I should’ve said something sooner.”

His hand was so warm through Ienzo’s shirt. “No. Thanks for telling me. It doesn’t change anything. I mean. It  _ changes _ things, but it doesn’t change things. You know?”

He wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved. “Oh?”

Demyx blushed and bit his lip. “I’ve never been with… a person with those parts. I’d… kind of thought, when I didn’t feel anything between your legs… I just thought I was doing a bad job.” He laughed awkwardly.

“That’s not it at all. I have a… packer I wear, but sometimes I can’t be fussed, honestly.” He could feel his face burning. “But it isn’t… difficult, if you’d be comfortable with that.”

His hand was shaking a little; Ienzo could feel it. “I’d be willing to try.”

“I could… show you, if you like,” he said slowly, unable to make eye contact. “Some other time… or now, whichever.”

Demyx kissed him, and for a moment they were lost in each other before he broke away. “I could try now.”

His heart skipped again. “Okay.”

“Come on.”

Demyx led him deeper into the apartment. Ienzo could barely take in the details, a combination of nerves and excitement making him feel vaguely dizzy. He thought he could smell incense, clean laundry, instruments on stands, a record player. Most of his focus was on the queen-sized bed. When was the last time he felt such genuine lust during a hookup, instead of mere curiosity? It was almost unfamiliar, making him shake and quieting the ever-present noise inside of his head. Demyx kissed him again, deeply, his tongue flicking against Ienzo’s before reaching for the hem of his turtleneck. He took him in with something like reverence before leaning down to kiss his collarbone, sending a fizz through his body. Ienzo reached up to take off Demyx’s own shirt, only able to look at him for a moment before he was eased onto the bed.

His thoughts were muddy, murky, and yet he was so inside of his own body. He struggled to unbutton Demyx’s jeans and felt him working at Ienzo’s, slipping them off. The nerves returned, making him acutely aware of the dampness between his legs, the insistent throb of his clit. He wondered if he might combust, and if that would be so awful. 

Demyx broke away from the kiss. “Can I see it?” he asked. 

“Yes--just--” 

Demyx helped him out of his underwear. He was infinitely glad he was meticulous with his own personal grooming. He had not honestly thought this day would end with him getting laid. It felt a little awkward, to part his legs. Demyx ran his hand along the inside of Ienzo’s thigh, making him shudder. “Oh,” he said softly.

“I don’t believe this is the first one you’ve seen,” he said, attempting a drollness and a coolness he did not feel. “Not at all.”

“True, but… not in real life,” Demyx admitted. “But you’re so… god, you’re beautiful.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“Really.” He leaned down to kiss him. Ienzo tried to take off Demyx’s own underwear, his dick already straining against them. 

The skin of it was warm against his palm. At least Ienzo knew he was competent at this. Demyx moaned against his shoulder. 

“Before you… really go at it,” he said, with difficulty. “First tell me how to--”

A blush made him hotter. “Right. Ah--” He’d never had to explain this to any of his partners. “There’s a… little nub, the--”

“The clit?”

Thank god he knew that much. “Yes, just… that’s the most important bit.”

“Can I… can I touch you?” His expression was so tender. There was no way this was all real, Ienzo thought. There had to be a catch. 

“Yes.”

He felt Demyx’s callused hand slide down his body, bringing with it a rush. After a moment where he seemed to struggle to find the nerve, he eased his hand over it, almost making Ienzo spasm. Demyx felt at it for a moment before he found the clit. “This?”

He swallowed. “That’s it. The… testosterone makes it… like that.”

“As long as I can make you feel good.” He kissed him again and began to stroke it, rolling it between his fingers. The feel of the calluses made Ienzo gasp aloud. “Is that bad?”

“No, no, it’s…” He could barely speak. “It’s very good.” With a trembling hand he fumbled to find Demyx’s dick, trying to move in rhythm with him. Hearing him struggle for breath only turned Ienzo on more. He could already feel the sensation building along his body, hot and electric. “If you want, you could… you could go inside me.” 

Demyx looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Just--do you have a condom?”

His breath hitched. “Sure. Of course.” He dug in a bedside drawer that Ienzo honestly hadn’t noticed. He could feel his knees shaking. “Do you need lube?”

How had Demyx not felt how wet he was? “No.” Ienzo took the packet from him and eased it over his dick. 

He laughed. “You might have to help me.” He guided the tip of it into him with one hand and gasped, his eyes closing. “It’s different.”

“In a bad way?”

“No.” He pressed into him a little more. “God, no. That doesn’t hurt you?”

“Doesn’t require as much preparation,” Ienzo explained. He opened his legs a little more, letting them rest against Demyx’s hips, for a moment just taking in the feel of his dick. It was more substantial than the hands or toys he’d taken over the past few months. 

Demyx moaned. “You feel so good.”

“I could… say the same. Just kind of… slow and deep.”

He started to move against Ienzo. His skin was tingling, the warmth and weight of Demyx’s body combined with the thrusting bringing him again closer to that edge. The grind of Demyx’s hips brushed against Ienzo’s clit, forcing a small noise from him. He felt as though he were losing control--another rule broken--but found, in the moment, he didn’t care. Ienzo tangled his hands in that blonde hair and kissed him, finding a rhythm with him, smooth and gentle, a steadily growing heat blocking out anything else. 

“Maybe a little faster?” he asked in a voice that wasn’t quite his.

Demyx made another noise and obliged him, moving harder. Ienzo could feel every bit of it, his body getting so sensitive the more excited he got. “Fuck,” Demyx said to his shoulder. He pressed his lips against his shoulder, his chest. “I--”

He let himself get lost in his body, his trembling thighs, the little waves of feeling starting to break over him in earnest, building smoothly towards that finish. “I’m really--”

Demyx’s hand reached down into the tangle of their bodies to find his clit again, and it was this more than anything that forced him over the edge. 

It overtook him so fully and completely that for a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, a hot and demanding pleasure holding everything out at arm’s length. He couldn’t stop shaking. He could feel, on some level, Demyx thrust into him once or twice more before he seemed to finish too, his dick twitching a little inside of him.

Ienzo came back slowly, seeing the ceiling first, his hands trembling, his skin borderline raw. Demyx eased out of him, making him shudder, and threw away the condom. “Are you okay?” Ienzo heard.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m still--coming down.”

“...Me too.” Demyx settled next to him on the bed, breathing hard. “Do you cuddle?”

Another rule that would be broken. At this point why bother keeping track? “Yes.” If anything, the arms around his waist helped. “I’m not sure I believe that was your first time.”

He laughed. “What, because I paid attention to you for five seconds? What idiots have you been sleeping with?”

“...Idiots, indeed.” He found himself relaxing in this strange bed. He’d almost forgotten that sex with another person could be  _ satisfying _ instead of mere physical upkeep. “I do believe that’s the best I’ve had for some time.”

Demyx brushed his cheek. “Fuck, me too. I just… where did you come from, Ienzo?”

“Here. Planet Earth.” He smiled. “Though I… haven’t experienced something so instant in a long while. Maybe ever.”

“Me either.” He kissed him, and for a moment Ienzo used that to ground himself. “I know it’s been… like, a day and a half. But I really like you.”

The smile was involuntary. “Maybe it’s against my better judgement… but I like you too.”


	2. Inciting Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going a little too well in Ienzo's new relationship, but this all changes when he receives some news.

Ienzo kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Demyx was treating him almost too well. He was kind and sweet and learned obscenely quickly how to read his many unpleasant moods. Ienzo realized that, despite having “partners”, he’d never had a serious  _ partner _ . Hadn’t quite seen the obsessive need. He was able to relax around Demyx in a way that he couldn’t even around himself, despite the newness of this relationship. Simply  _ being _ was taking a lot of his strength.

It was going too well. There had to be a catch.

“Feel like I have my own apartment,” Riku remarked dryly. “Barely seen you all month.”

Ienzo shrugged. “Do you mind?”

“So long as your checks keep cashing, no,” he said, with a yawn. “Funny. When I imagined you settling down with someone, I didn’t think it’d be  _ him. _ ”

“I’m not settling,” Ienzo said, without looking up from his laptop. 

“Whatever you say,” Riku said. He opened the fridge and dug out some leftovers. 

“I’m  _ not _ .”

Riku rolled his eyes. “Look, as long as you’re happy I don’t care.”

He considered.  _ Was _ this happiness? He honestly couldn’t tell. If this was happiness, what had he felt before? The transition had opened a new chapter of his life, but the chapter was often… open, unstructured. “Are  _ you _ happy, in your relationships?”

Riku stuck something in the microwave. “...You’re funny.”

“Hey, you  _ chose _ to have two life partners.”

“Is it a choice, though?” He was being facetious. “Couldn’t imagine life without ‘em.”

“Really? I could. It’d be  _ much _ quieter around here.”

He flopped down onto the couch. “Not all of our boyfriends have their own apartments.”

Ienzo blushed despite himself. 

“As long as you’re happy,” Riku repeated, a little more genuinely. “You deserve it. Really.”

Riku had seen him in a lot of dark spots. Too many to be dignified. Ienzo had been much more stable recently, but still the past lingered. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re a good friend.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose you want to watch more garbage?”

“More like you’re not a man of culture,” Riku remarked. He picked up the remote. “Which episode were we on?”

“Oh, Giannina was detonating,” he remarked. “Isn’t she always.”

“Ha. Yeah.”

* * *

The days seemed to be positively flying.

It seemed like if he weren’t working, or working on his own personal projects, he was seeing Demyx. Some of these were normal dates--dinners, hikes, going to the movies--but often they wound up in Demyx’s apartment. Regardless of how Ienzo emotionally  _ felt _ , there was one thing undeniable. Their physical chemistry was shocking to him. He thought people only felt things like this in books or movies, only to realize maybe there was a  _ reason _ people wrote about things so. Perhaps he had never felt this way. Or was it merely that it was the first serious physical interaction that he’d had since he’d transitioned? Did it matter? Either way, he quite often found himself, when they were not able to be together, furiously masturbating like a teenager.

He almost felt physically ill. But weirdly the illness was exhilarating. It had been a long time since he’d felt so physically attached to anyone, so drawn. He wondered if he were losing himself, or perhaps finding himself?

He tried to be as meticulously careful as possible. But, well, Demyx was the only person he was seeing, and vice versa, not to mention after being on HRT a year he was basically sterile. Were there moments they got too swept up in things to use a condom? Absolutely, but still Demyx tried to pull out when possible. 

Well. Hindsight’s 20/20, isn’t it?

* * *

They could barely keep their hands off each other. These dates often reached a boiling point, almost always at Demyx’s apartment. He remembered one night they had gone to see an admittedly mediocre production of  _ Antony & Cleopatra _ over at the college. He found himself focusing more on Demyx’s hand on his thigh than the actors butchering Shakespeare on stage. The drive back Ienzo railed into the production with an almost merciless glee, while also coldly conscious of the fact that these people were just students trying their best.

“I never thought  _ Shakespeare _ was your cup of tea,” Ienzo said, at the end of his tirade.

“Oh, it isn’t,” Demyx said with a laugh. “I just knew you would either really enjoy it, or enjoy it in a bad movie kind of way. Gotta say. You have a lot of opinions.”

“I’m a librarian--of course I have a lot of opinions about how Shakespeare should be performed.” He sighed. “I have a lot of opinions about  _ everything. _ ”

“Besides, I find it entertaining when you get worked up. Watching your face the whole time was its own kind of show.” He smirked. 

“Oh, I can give you a show,” Ienzo said breezily. “If a show is what you want.”

He saw Demyx’s flush in the streetlight. “Jesus, not while I’m driving.”

They’d barely made it into the door of the apartment before they were kissing. Ienzo had to awkwardly bend one arm to get it all the way shut. He’d never really allowed himself to open and feel with such abandon in his relationships--then again, through most of them he hadn’t really been  _ himself _ on multiple levels. He pressed Demyx back against the hallway wall, feeling his hands wander down over Ienzo’s body. He tasted like something vaguely minty. Ienzo broke off the kiss to press his mouth against his throat, drinking in the weird sweetness of skin.

He felt Demyx’s hand slide down between his legs, trying to rub through the fabric, and he gasped, clutching handfuls of Demyx’s shirt in his hands. A second later  _ he _ was the one being pressed against the wall, and he was struggling with the buttons of his pants so he could be touched properly. Demyx obliged, slipping his hand below the waistband. He rolled the clit between his fingers, almost too gently, making Ienzo feel utterly weak. “You’ve become--good at this rather quickly,” he said.

“Well, I do like to perform,” he said in a low voice. “Thought you’d have caught on by now.” 

Ienzo felt a finger enter him and gasped. For a moment he tried to find the words to ask if they could go back into the bedroom; then, equally, he realized that was unlikely. With shaking hands he fumbled for Demyx’s pants, taking his hardened dick out and stroking it roughly. He kicked off his own slacks and underwear.

“I like your style,” he said.

“You do bring it out of me,” Ienzo retorted. He lifted one leg against Demyx’s hip and he reached to support it. With his other hand, he guided his dick inside of Ienzo. As practical as he tried to be, feeling it raw within him only heightened the sensation.

“Take your other leg,” Demyx said breathlessly, “And sort of--”

“Right,” he said, equally as shaky, and wrapped his legs around his waist. It felt odd to be completely supported by him. In fact, before all this he’d never let himself be told what to do in bed. Maybe it was because he’d never felt comfortable being so vulnerable before now, and ceding control.

It helped that Demyx honestly did know how to fuck. He couldn’t help the small noises he was making. He felt Demyx’s lips and tongue against his throat.

“I suspect,” he said, almost gasping with each thrust, “body worship may be one of your kinks.”

“No  _ shit. _ ” He dragged his mouth back to Ienzo’s. 

The tension was already starting to grow, a delicious sort of tingling along his thighs and abdomen. In the moment it didn’t matter that the fabric of his shirt rubbing against the wall did odd things to his skin or that he could still feel the zipper of Demyx’s jeans, which were not quite off. He no longer had to convince himself to avoid falling apart. Another shimmer of pleasure broke over him, the wavebreak threatening to burst. He couldn’t even really kiss anymore, too caught in it to do anything other than be fucked. The sounds Demyx was making weren’t helping.

“You’re close,” Demyx said, not quite breaking the fog.

“You don’t say.” 

He ground his hips a little, right up against Ienzo’s clit, pushing him fully into the deep end, a place lacking thought or consciousness. He felt something warm and sticky against his legs and came to. He’d been set down but was still being supported.

“I’m sorry,” Demyx said, gasping. “I just… really didn’t want to do it in you.”

“That’s alright,” Ienzo said. His knees were weak. 

“I can feel it,” he continued. “Around me? When you--”

He blushed. He didn’t know why this was embarrassing. “Oh?”

He nodded. “It feels like… god, I don’t even know how to describe it. I almost started panicking because--well. I didn’t think I could get it out in time.”

“How you can even think at all is a mystery,” Ienzo remarked. “Though I have to say-- _ that _ show was much better than the one we just came from.”

Demyx kissed him once. “I try my best.”

* * *

What came next could all be traced back to a moment after a party Demyx’s friend threw. The concept of such intense socializing with strangers had him drinking more than he was wont to normally, but having an anchor in this party did help. However, by the time they got back he was more than sober enough to consent. 

As things became more intense, more involved… He found himself on top of Demyx, riding him and grinding hard against him, the other man’s hands holding fast to his hips. He was precariously too close, that now-familiar space when actual thinking when out the window.

“Hey,” Demyx said. “Ienzo? I’m pretty close--you probably should--”

He wasn’t quite conscious enough to listen. “It’s okay,” he said. “Really. The HRT--”

“If you’re sure--”

He was truly cresting now. “It’s alright.” The intensity of it, as always, startled him, making him spasm, and he felt, possibly for the first time, the real warmth as Demyx finished inside him. Wearily, he lay down. He wiped the sweat off his brow, positively exhausted. “We’re quite good at this, aren’t we?” He closed his eyes, already ready for sleep. 

Demyx kissed his forehead. “The best.”

He woke slowly, feeling acutely the dried sweat on his body, almost an achiness in his hips. He looked up and saw that his boyfriend was still fast asleep, a faint blonde stubble having shown up overnight.  _ I think I may love you, _ Ienzo thought. That had to be the only explanation. 

Almost as if at the thought, Demyx stirred. “Hey,” he said quietly.

“Good morning.”

He kissed him. “I had a brainwave, after you fell asleep,” he said, touching his cheek. “Move in with me.”

Ienzo wasn’t sure how to react.

“I know your roommate is moving in with his partners after the lease is up, and that’s been stressing you out,” he said slowly. “If you want your own room, I have an office.”

“You’re sure?” he asked. He swallowed. “It hasn’t been that long--”

“It’s been six months,” Demyx said. “I don’t want to force you to do anything, though.”

“As long as you’re sure,” he said softly. “Yes… that might be… nice.”

* * *

As he dealt with all this moving… something started to change.

He felt anxious and emotional often, but he attributed it to the stress of moving. One morning, after finally convincing Demyx to get rid of that horrid futon in lieu of Ienzo’s actual couch, he woke up… dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Demyx asked, reaching for his hand.

“Just a… touch of vertigo,” he said, holding a hand to his head.

“Did you drink enough water yesterday?” Things had gotten awfully acrobatic.

“Probably not--”

“That’s it,” Demyx said. “I’ll get you some.”

But despite frighteningly clear urine, the dizziness didn’t  _ quite _ fade. It was early spring, so he attributed it to allergies, despite never really having had them previously. Soon after that, he was nauseous--not enough to vomit, but enough to be distracting. But there was a wicked stomach bug going around, he’d likely caught a mild version of it.

It didn’t pass. 

“You should go to the doctor,” Demyx suggested. “Maybe you’re allergic to something?”

He investigated the apartment thoroughly for mold, but it was modern enough that there was nothing, and allergy medicine didn’t help much. His general practitioner assured him there was  _ nothing _ wrong with him, that it could be stress. But Ienzo had  _ had _ intense anxiety, and it didn’t feel the same. One morning as he got ready for work, his normal shoes felt quite tight around his ankles. Had he gained weight, perhaps? The nausea that day was strong enough to make him consider going home.

If he weren’t sick, what  _ was _ wrong with him? He doubted it was  _ nothing. _ An unknown allergy, considering his eating habits were slightly different now? The sudden development of IBS? But he’d had no issues with bowel movements. What about lactose intolerance? It occasionally happened to people as they moved from childhood to adulthood, but he was into his late twenties, surely it would’ve happened by now.

After Demyx went to bed, he sat with his laptop, researching. Mostly for shits and giggles, he typed in his symptoms to see what would come up.

Pregnancy. Har, har.

Wait. No.

Ienzo blinked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. HRT made the womb an inhospitable environment; it was completely impossible. If he’d been on it only three or six months,  _ maybe. _ But it’d been over a year now.

He dug. Deeply, with something akin to panic. As Demyx was a professor, his credentials lent Ienzo a wealth of databases from the university, on top of his own from the library. Finally, approaching dawn, he stumbled upon an article which made his heart stop.

The article stated, basically, that while HRT made a trans person  _ essentially _ sterile, sterility  _ was not necessarily guaranteed. _

His breath picked up. He shut the computer. No, it wasn’t possible. There had to be some other explanation. Well, at least it was easy to disprove this hypothesis, if somewhat humiliating. He waited until the local drugstore opened, bought the test, and brought it back to the apartment.

_ I’m crazy, _ he thought.  _ I just wasted twenty dollars.  _ Money better used to get takeout, pay bills.  _ I’m being paranoid. _ He drank a big glass of water, waited until his bladder was uncomfortably full, and took the test. He set it on a flat surface as advised, waited the requisite three minutes, and picked it up, fully expecting it to confirm his neuroses were just that.

_ Pregnant, _ it said, in indisputable small black letters.

Ah. A dud, then. Or perhaps a false positive? He hadn’t been as religious lately at peeing after sex, perhaps some kind of UTI or kidney infection? The symptoms, if advanced enough, were similar.

His hands were shaking. He’d wait until tomorrow morning, to use the morning urine, that’d be a more accurate reading.

But when he repeated this experiment with the second stick in the box, he hadn’t even fully taken the test into his hands before it was reading a result. Again.  _ Pregnant. _

“No,” he said to it aloud. “Stupid thing.” He buried it all in their bathroom trash. But as he stood, feeling that requisite dizziness, the nausea, he thought--

A medical professional could confirm that this was not that. Shakily, he called out of work, called his OBGYN, who he hadn’t seen in some months. He took himself there in a haze of dissociation. Gave a urine sample. Waited.

“Is everything alright?” the doctor, a woman named Aerith Gainsborough, asked when she saw him. “I don’t think you’re due for PAP.”

“I’m afraid I’ve convinced myself of something insane,” he said slowly, gripping the table tightly. “I… I believe the pregnancy test I took was a false positive… it’s not possible. I’m sterile, yes?” He looked up at her, seeking, he realized, confirmation.

She hesitated. “Well, the chance of conception on testosterone is certainly very low, but not impossible,” she said. “Are you using… other methods of contraception?”

“Well, yes, but--”

She thought. “Have things ever… slipped, even once?”

He thought of the night of the party. “...Perhaps once or twice.”

“Are you experiencing any symptoms? Dizziness, nausea, strange cravings, swelling in the feet or ankles?”

He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. “Well--”

She pursed her lips. “Just to be thorough, I’ll run your blood hCG too,” she said. “I’ll get to the bottom of it. Don’t you worry.”

Those fifteen minutes she was gone were agony. He sat rocking slowly back and forth, something he hadn't had to do in many years. It wasn’t possible. It was  _ not _ possible.

She came back in, her expression not at all reassuring. “Well, I have an answer,” she said, turning her tablet towards him. “See these numbers here?”

One of the reasons Ienzo liked Dr. Gainsborough so much was that she shared her process with him--on top of being nonchalant about gender identity. “Yes.”

“This is what they look like in a person that isn’t pregnant. This is what they look like when they are. And  _ this _ is what yours looks like.” She swiped through a few tabs.

Seeing it there, indisputably, in black and white, that he--

“You’re pregnant,” she said softly. “Judging just by your hormones, I’d say--very.”

He shut his eyes tightly. 

“You don’t have to go through with this if you don't want to,” she added, equally as softly. “You’re likely early on enough that, should you choose to terminate, you’d only need to take a pill. I understand your situation is not… an expected one.”

He rested his hands in his lap. They were trembling. 

“I know this is a real shock,” she said. “All things considering. How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“Why don’t you think about it?” she said. “Take a few days. Maybe talk about it with your partner. Do you feel safe with them?”

God. He was going to have to tell Demyx. He felt a fine sweat break over his body. “Yes.”

“You have a little time,” she said. 

“Oh,” he said numbly. “Is that so.”

“Perhaps… avoid your next dose of HRT until you decide,” she added. “Ease off of it gently.”

“Okay.”

“Ienzo?”

“What?”

She squeezed his hand. “You’re going to get through this.”


	3. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo and Demyx decide what they want to do with this unplanned pregnancy.

Ienzo went through the next few days in a haze. The word echoed heavily in his mind--

_ Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. _

He didn’t  _ look  _ it. His stomach was as flat as it ever was. This clump of cells, such as it were, was only a few weeks old. Perhaps not viable.

Could he see a pregnancy through? Imagine himself swollen, heavy? And what of the other end, a whole human being he’d need to care for? He’d wanted children, but he’d figured it would have been ten, fifteen years in the future--and then, adoption. He hadn’t anticipated anything  _ biological. _ Hell, he’d fully planned on having a hysterectomy at some point. Not to mention, he and Demyx were faring well, but it had only been  _ months. _ This was a greater commitment than marriage.

He couldn’t keep this pregnancy. That’s all. It was a mistake, a blip on the radar. But for clarity’s sake, he  _ did _ need to tell Demyx. It was only fair. He’d regret it if he didn’t.

The thought of it made sleeping impossible. He stumbled through the workday blearily, and when he got home he was unable to make the dinner he’d planned for. He sat on the couch, hugging himself tightly, imaging himself spitting out those words. This was all his fault. 

When Demyx got back from class, he noticed the variance in Ienzo’s mood immediately. “Hey,” he said. “What's going on? Bad day?”

He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. “I… suppose…”

Demyx sat next to him. “What happened?”

He tried to gather the nerve. “I need to tell you something.”

Something like fear sparked in his eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He felt the tears there, tremulous. 

Demyx took his hand; he snatched it away. “Talk to me,” he said. “I can’t fix what I don’t know.”

He swallowed. He was shaking all over. “I… received some news,” he said slowly. “I figured out what’s wrong with me.”

“Isn’t that good?”

The wetness ran over. “I’m… I’m pregnant.”

There was a substantial pause. Demyx snorted. “Okay, real funny.”

He looked up. “It’s not a joke. I really am.”

He froze. “Oh.”

“I… I thought it wasn’t possible. And for the majority of people on T, it isn’t.” He gritted his teeth. “I guess I’m just lucky.”

“Oh,” Demyx repeated. 

“I… I wanted to tell you. Before I made any decisions.”

“Thank you,” he said numbly. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Ienzo. This is my fault.”

“If we’re being technical, it’s both our faults,” he said. 

“What do you want to do?”

“I…” He swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m still in shock.” Ienzo felt a bit faint. “What if there’s something wrong with it? From the hormones?”

“I doubt that.”

“But what if I can’t carry it the whole term--” He hugged himself tightly. 

Demyx embraced him gently. “It’s your body,” he said softly. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

“But this thing is also half yours.”

“I’m not the one who’s going to carry it and give birth to it,” Demyx said. There was something distant in his eyes. 

“What do you  _ want _ ?”

He pressed his forehead against Ienzo’s. “I want to make you happy,” he said. “That’s all. Whatever that means.”

* * *

This news did make things awkward between them, as he tried to slog through the next few days. Demyx seemed to be constantly walking on eggshells around him. Ienzo was exhausted, sluggish. He kicked things back and forth in his mind--

The finances. The newness of his relationship. The threat of the pregnancy triggering dormant dysphoria. His testosterone hurting the embryo. He needed to talk to someone, someone he could trust to be level headed.

Ienzo called his father.

Ansem was a busy man. Being a politician would do that. Trying to explain things to his  _ other _ father only gave him anxiety. He needed real, solid advice. 

It was a beautiful spring day. He was feeling swollen, despite the fact that he was too early along to show. His pregnancy had recently escalated to morning sickness, and it wasn’t fun. He was still sipping ginger tea in an attempt to reign it in when he saw him approach in the park. 

“Waiting long?” he asked, leaning in for a hug. “Ienzo, I must say. Since I last saw you, you are positively  _ glowing. _ Nothing like young love.”

“Glowing.” He snorted. Unfortunately, it was true. Since he'd been pregnant his complexion was flawless. 

“Shall we walk?”

He followed him through the park, the just-blooming flowers. Parents playing with their kids. Bright, warm sunlight.

“All is well, I hope?” Ansem asked. “You seem distant this afternoon.”

“I’m afraid I have ulterior motives, for speaking with you,” he said. “I need some… fatherly advice. As it were.”

“All in the contract,” Ansem said, with a smile.

“You recall I’ve started a new relationship.”

“Not so new. It’s been some time since you mentioned it.” Ansem cocked his head. “I’m glad, to see you find someone. I’d hoped you would eventually.”

“I’m afraid I’m… dealing with a dilemma.” He looked at the lake, at the ducks. He admitted it to the water. “I’ve conceived.”

For a moment all that was audible was the splashing of ducks. “Are you… quite sure?” Ansem asked. “I thought--”

“Yes. I did too.” He sighed. “The proof is in the pudding. So to speak.”

Ansem touched his arm. “Do you feel alright?”

“Nauseous, emotional, humiliated,” he said. “But yes, fine, I suppose.”

“The chances of this happening must be--”

“Incredibly slim.” He felt his hand on his stomach and pulled it away. “Lucky me.”

Ansem considered this. “Lucky,” he echoed. “Yes, Ienzo, perhaps you are. Does the boy know?”

“Handled it gracefully, I suppose,” he said. He wished he had seeds, for the birds. “Says it’s my body, my choice, and all that.” 

“Something like this--perhaps it is fate,” he said slowly. “Giving you something you didn’t realize you needed.”

“More like I was irresponsible once and these are the consequences.”

Ansem placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t base a choice like this on logic,” he said firmly, “as much as you are wont to. Parenthood is difficult, emotionally complicated. You have to go with your gut, Ienzo, or you’ll regret it forever.”

“How very helpful,” he spat.

“Your heart will tell you the right thing to do,” he said. “Regardless of whether or not you see this through… you have my support. But consider… after all, you ended up in our custody under less than ideal circumstances. And it ended up being a fortuitous match, yes?”

He blinked. “I… suppose.”

“Consider it an opportunity, either way,” he said, “To determine what you truly want from your life.”

“I shall.”

“I hope you do.”

* * *

Ienzo was drifting into an uncertain sleep when it came to him, with a painful clarity. He’d been in denial too long.

Go with his gut.

He rested his hand on the clump of cells. What was it telling him?

Likely if he continued his transition--his plan--he wouldn’t be able to biologically conceive again. This was likely a fluke--as it were. A once in a lifetime shot.

Wouldn’t he be a fool, to throw it away?

He looked at Demyx, fast asleep next to him. Quite possibly this person was the love of his life.

Ienzo had always lived by rules and plans. Breaking those rules had given him love and pleasure he hadn’t thought he was capable of. And to break this rule, this plan? Bigger, more consequential than the last? Would it reap a larger reward? Should he terminate, life  _ wouldn’t _ be normal. The fact of it would sit within him forever, good or bad. 

He wanted this child.

It wasn’t a clump of cells. Or an embryo. It was the potential for a person, something  _ he’d _ made, despite the odds. It wanted  _ him _ , despite his inhospitable body. Tears--of relief, maybe--clouded his eyes. He already knew he’d made up his mind.

Very well.

He sat up. Slowly. “Demyx?” He wasn’t sure why the man needed to know right exactly now at this god awful hour, but he needed to say it out loud. He needed it to be real.

Demyx groaned and pressed his face into the pillow. “Wassup?”

“I want to keep the baby.” Not cells, not a fetus. Something that would be a person. 

He blinked, his expression sharpening. He took a breath. “I was hoping you would,” he said softly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, if you felt so strongly?”

“Because this isn’t a normal situation. I didn’t want you to be--uncomfortable.” He gasped out loud, as though just realizing. “But fuck, we’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”

“It seems that way-- _ if _ my body decides to hold the pregnancy.”

Another sound, almost like a laugh. “Jesus, Ienzo, I--we’re going to be  _ parents. _ ”

“It… seems that way, yes.”

“God, I--love you.”

In the startled silence that followed, Ienzo realized it was the first time either of them had actually said it. “I love you too,” he said. 

Demyx leaned in to kiss him. He rested his palm against Ienzo’s stomach. “There’s really something in there.”

“I know I need to… go back to the doctor, at some point,” he said. “Not only to tell her I plan to remain pregnant, but to gauge the baby’s gestational age. They’ll probably do an ultrasound.”

“Can I come?”

Ienzo wasn’t sure why this surprised him, or why he expected Demyx to be flighty and anxious about all this. “Of course you can.”

* * *

Actually  _ seeing _ the baby was surreal. It was no more than a blip in a black and white wasteland, but it was there. Hearing that it had a heartbeat, too, startled him to tears. It was living, it was alive. He was apparently only six weeks into this pregnancy; another six before they could even be sure it was viable.

The anxiety of it all was getting to him. He wanted this child almost fiercely, though he had no idea why. Genetics? Instinct? Was this as Ansem told him, his heart telling him what he needed? Still, Ienzo did not dare dream of what might come of it. Not yet. 

He tried his best to be healthy. He read voraciously about ideal diets despite his propensity to immediately throw it back up. Took vitamins. Tried to maintain hydration despite the steadily-increasing pressure on his bladder. 

He was actually finishing getting sick at work when he heard a gentle knock on the stall door and a timid, “are you okay?”

Fuck. He thought he was alone. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern.” He dabbed at the fine sweat on his forehead. Shakily, he stood and opened the door. He saw a young man, with messy, spiky blond hair--one of the high school volunteers. Ienzo could not recall his name. Ted? Ben? He wasn’t wearing his pass, which was technically a violation of the rules. 

“If you’re sick, you should go home,” the boy added. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“I’m not sick or contagious. Such as it were.” He smiled wearily. “It’s a medical condition.”

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.” His blue eyes were terrified. “Is there anything I can do to… help you?”

“Not particularly--unless you mind me brushing my teeth.” He chanced a smile; the boy returned it nervously. The boy did what he came in here for and left, casting one more odd glance over his shoulder. 

As he went through his normal daily routine… Ienzo realized he’d been slow for a time. Soon enough this “condition” would be obvious. He didn’t particularly care who knew he was trans, but he also didn’t wear it on his sleeve. Continuing would make it obvious.

Did it matter, truly? What good were secrets?

He’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

* * *

Ienzo and Demyx both waited with bated breath as the weeks crept past steadily. It felt as though the nausea was abating, and his energy returned; they were able to enjoy sex again. One morning he woke up and noticed after his shower that his stomach was no longer quite so flat. It would be impossible to tell unless one knew that it was a baby and not an extra five pounds, but it was visible.

The twelfth week came. According to the three month sonogram, all was well. He and the baby were both healthy. Things were becoming permanent. Demyx, who had been bursting to tell the truth for some time, told anyone who would listen, and one morning Ienzo woke up to a spam of angry texts from Naminé at not being told sooner. She didn’t buy the “we wanted to make sure” line. Then,

_ I think Demyx likes the cult of domesticity, _ she wrote.  _ After the way we grew up… he likes the stability. He’ll love the crap out of both of you, I know that much. _

A sigh.  _ He already is. _ Always there to give a shoulder or back rub, to indulge his strange cravings (anywhere from kimchi to collard greens and chocolate), to not get more than vaguely annoyed when the hormones made him act like a maniac. 

It was time to start planning this life for real.


	4. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo enters the second trimester, and tries to plan for the future.

Moving forward meant telling his other father.

A car accident had killed Ienzo’s biological parents when he was too young to remember them. Even, a long time colleague and recent widower himself, took him in. He was neurotic and particular, though it all came from a place of love. And while he was married to Ansem technically, his real spouse was his job; biochemical and medical engineering. All Ienzo remembered was that one day Ansem was there like he’d always been. He got the notion that the two had long harbored feelings for one another, prior to Even’s marriage. 

Most of this dread came from the fact that Demyx was his chosen partner. He could see them clashing like water and oil. Demyx was much too go-with-the-flow.

They all met for dinner at Ienzo’s childhood home. “Parents got money, huh,” Demyx remarked dryly, seeing the place.

He sighed. “The house is ancestral.”

“So, yes.”

He shook his head. 

“I just hope your dad doesn’t hate me,” Demyx said.

“He’s… abrasive with mostly everyone,” Ienzo admitted. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”

He bit his lip. He was more nervous than Ienzo about this, which was saying something. “I mean. This kinda makes us family.” He gestured to Ienzo’s modestly concealed stomach. 

“You’re in academia--he’ll like that.” Ienzo took his hand. “And don’t worry about the other. Him, I’m not concerned about.”

Ansem welcomed them into the house, giving Ienzo a gentle hug. “How are you feeling?”

“Actually quite good.”

“And you must be Demyx. You have to blame Ienzo for such a late introduction. The boy is  _ much _ too private.” He offered a hand. Ienzo noticed the other man’s was shaking when he took it. 

“Nice to meet you. Sir,” he added.

Ansem laughed. “No need. No need at all. Something to drink?”

Demyx blushed. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“He feels the need to hold himself to my Spartan pregnancy diet,” Ienzo remarked. “Go on. It’s okay.”

He watched Ansem guide his wayward boyfriend into the parlor. Only now did he feel dread, truly and thickly. He also needed the restroom. He went and took care of it and when he was through, Even was already in the kitchen. “I see you brought the boy,” he said, digging through the cutlery draw. “These are all tarnished. Everything.”

“I don’t think Demyx needs to be impressed,” Ienzo said. “Funny--he was rather scared of  _ you _ .”

Even looked up, smoothing away a strand of blond hair. “Why should he be?”

Ienzo laughed. “All of my other partners you derided with a sniff the moment they walked out the door.”

“All of your other  _ partners _ didn’t cause your inflection to change so when you spoke of them. They didn’t make you feel yourself. I can see that this does.”

He wasn’t going to relax yet. “That so.”

“Ienzo, I will withhold judgement if it makes you happy.” He rolled his eyes. “What type of parent would I be, if I held you so strictly to my own standards? That’s not love, it’s control.”

“...Yet, you railed into me the moment I brought home anything other than a perfect score.”

He scowled. “That was different. You’re too brilliant not to use your mind to its capacity.” He cocked his head slightly, studying him. “You  _ do _ look different, child,” he added. “I’m not sure what it is.”

Ienzo forced himself to smile. “All things will be made manifest,” he said vaguely. 

“...Alright.” He shook his head. “Well. I’m sure the miscreant I call a spouse is wining and dining. Let’s go.”

Ienzo was almost shocked at how well Even behaved himself. While he was clearly put off by some of Demyx’s more eccentric qualities, he seemed to be struggling to have an open mind, asking him about his job, his teaching methods, and so on. There was a moment of considerable tension when Demyx admitted he didn’t believe in traditional testing and only gave grades because he had to--but once he pointed out that it was so  _ difficult _ to quantify something so subjective, Even relented. He met Ienzo’s eyes over the table as if to say,  _ well, if you  _ must.

Everyone played well.

Time to drop the bombshell.

"I'm afraid we've gathered you here for a reason," Ienzo said. Ansem wore a small, knowing smile. Even's expression was much more apprehensive.

"...And that is?" He asked.

Ienzo looked towards Demyx. He was nervous too; Ienzo felt his knee bobbing under the table. He took his hand. He made himself make eye contact with Even; judging by his calculating expression, the man had already figured it out. "I'm having a baby. Due in November, actually." He bit his lip.

"Oh," Even said softly. He looked at his husband, and his eyes narrowed. "You knew."

"Ienzo needed advice. It was not my news to share."

"But he's our son--"

Demyx locked eyes with Ienzo and flicked his eyebrows. "Isn't this about us?" He whispered. Ienzo smiled despite himself. 

"--little alarmed that you kept something so big from me for so long," Even said. "What if something happened to him?" 

"I'm fine," Ienzo asserted. 

He looked up. For a moment Ienzo thought his eyes were watering. He got up and came around the table to Ienzo. "Twelve weeks? I assume this is why you waited?"

"Thirteen. Auspiciously." He exhaled. "I wasn't sure if it would keep--the hormones. This wasn't... intentional. Evidently I am the most fertile person alive." He rolled his eyes.

"Or I am," Demyx added helpfully. "What?"

Even took Ienzo's hands. "Is this truly what you want? Both of you?"

"...I believe so," Ienzo said. "I… feel almost compelled."

"Not an accident. A surprise." Demyx grinned.

"This isn't going to be easy."

"I know," Ienzo said. "But I've done more difficult things, I think."

Even considered this and nodded. "I'm much too young to be a grandparent," he said. "Very  _ well,  _ Ienzo _." _

* * *

This dealt with… they tried to plan for their life.

The second bedroom, which had been used more recently as a dumping ground for all their excess things, needed to be cleaned out. For a few weeks they squabbled over who really needed what, an argument culminating in Demyx actually sleeping on the couch ("my couch," Ienzo pointed out crabbily), before Ansem offered them attic space for the things they couldn't bear to get rid of. There was no real reason to actually move apartments. They just had too much  _ stuff. _ The landlord allowed them to paint, and Naminé practically begged them to allow her to put something on the walls.

There certainly was no shortage of love.

The pregnancy did make him feel different, but not in the way Ienzo thought. Once the sickness was over, he realized he  _ liked _ the way he felt. The hormones were… something, but even they seemed to ebb predictably.

At sixteen weeks exactly he felt a flutter, a sensation so brief he had a hard time convincing himself it wasn't gas. But later that evening it happened again, softly, like a pulse of light. He gasped aloud.

“Ienzo?” Demyx prompted, setting down his guitar. “Are you okay?”

“I felt it move,” he said. He blinked back the tears in his eyes. “Right here.” He rested his hand below his navel. 

Demyx approached him slowly, almost as if this were a spell. “Is it still doing it?”

“Possibly--but it’s hard to feel.”

Demyx touched the spot too. “Huh,” he said softly. “I… wow.” He sounded choked up. “I mean I knew, but…”

“It’s all becoming real.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

Demyx kissed his cheek. “I love you,” he said. “And you,” he added, towards the baby. He swiped at his eyes. “Holy crap. You  _ made _ that.”

“It’s a work in progress,” Ienzo said breezily. 

* * *

He found himself moving delicately, as though being too quick would startle those little twitches away. As the days passed, they grew more frequent, and he was able to feel them more easily. He eased gently into the fifth month. Comparatively, the bump was still small compared to other people of the same gestational age, but it was growing considerably more difficult to hide, despite uncharacteristically loose clothing and sweaters even as summer got hotter.

One afternoon he was called into the head librarian’s office. “Ienzo,” Aqua said cheerfully. “Did you finish it?” She was referring to a new novel that had come out, a thriller about a woman whose seven lies ended in the death of her best friend’s husband.

“I thought the prose was rather straightforward and clean. Refreshing, for the genre.”

“I know. I really hope it’ll do well. I get so tired of all the shenanigans people get up to in these books. Give me something so mundanely  _ interesting _ instead . ” She perched on her desk. “Speaking of.”

He froze, feeling something very like dread. “Yes?”

“Sit. It’s okay.” She gestured to one of the upholstered chairs at the side of the room. “How are you doing?”

At his spike of anxiety, the baby began kicking. He had to fight the impulse to rest a hand on it. “I’m well. Yourself?”

She smiled. “Don’t look so terrified.” She got up and shut the door, then sat in the chair next to him. “I know you’re pregnant.”

He took a quick breath. “I suppose it’s pretty obvious now.”

“Not really. Not exactly. I’ve overheard you getting sick a few times. You’re constantly going to and from the bathroom. Your footsteps also sound different. Did you know that?”

“Don’t you have a job to do, other than observe me?” Ienzo asked before he could stop himself.

She laughed. “I just… I want you to know it’s okay. Really. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

“I know the situation isn’t… conventional.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We’re not conventional. We’re librarians.” She gestured towards her hair, artfully dyed blue, her eyebrows pencilled to match. “But really, you’re doing okay?”

He sighed. The anxiety began to ebb, so slowly. “Believe it or not, I actually like the way this feels,” he admitted. 

“That’s good. When is it supposed to come?”

“November.”

“I’m guessing you’ll need some time.”

“Well… yes.” He swallowed. “I know I’ve been hoarding my vacation days--”

“We have paternity policies in place,” she said, one eyebrow raised. “You were really just going to blow them all?”

“I haven’t been… great at planning things lately,” he admitted. “I’m alert, but strangely foggy.”

“I would be too.” She patted his hand once. “I’ll start the paperwork. Ienzo? Please don’t push yourself. Don’t lift anything. If you need to rest,  _ rest _ .” She smiled a little. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I know I’m your boss, but I’m also your friend,” she said. “You don’t have to hide things.”

He stood, slowly. It was getting harder to do so. “Quite. I think this has been an adjustment for all of us.”

* * *

Ienzo wasn’t sure if he wanted or needed a baby shower. He and Demyx had good enough jobs that they could likely afford everything on their own, and of course there was the obvious truth that Ansem and Even wanted to help them. He didn’t particularly  _ need _ to be the center of attention. It was annoying enough getting weird looks when he was out and about. Thankfully, there was never anything more than that.

“I just want to celebrate you,” Demyx said one night. It was the middle of August, but Ienzo was strangely cold. He had his head on a pillow on Demyx’s lap, and the other man was stroking his hair. “Is that too much to ask for?”

“Then celebrate me,” Ienzo said dryly. “A shower sounds  _ exhausting. _ Everyone poking at and fawning over me. On top of the strange gender reveal nonsense. No thank you. Perhaps once they’re born we can have something.” The more time passed, the less the baby was an “it.” 

“ _ Fine, _ ” Demyx said. “Never thought I’d end up with an introvert.”

“Well, here we are.” He yawned. “Oh--here.” He took Demyx's hand and placed it on his belly, where the baby was kicking. He was far along enough that it could be felt by outsiders.

“Oh man, I love that,” he said softly. 

“Honestly, I do too,” Ienzo admitted. “This whole ordeal… I was so worried that I would feel dysphoria. Strangely, I don’t at all.”

“Isn’t that good?”

He exhaled. “It’s  _ very _ good. Perhaps I’m a broodmare, but I… enjoy being pregnant. Though I admit I’m looking forward to having my body back.” 

“I would be too.” He caressed the bump gently. “Do you ever think about what they look like?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Ienzo shifted his weight a little. He could already feel he needed to pee, but was too comfortable with this position and the conversation. “As long as the child can have a good quality of life, I could care less.”

“I hope they look like you,” Demyx said.

“What? Why?”

“Come on, Ienzo, you’re gorgeous,” he said, as though it were obvious. “Have you  _ seen _ your bone structure? Besides, the gray hair is so badass.”

“I do not need my child to perpetually look like an anime protagonist,” Ienzo said dryly. “I’ve tried dyeing it. My hair just grows too fast, especially now. No. I hope they look like you. Your coloring.” It was a realization. “Even your neutral expression is so welcoming. That could be useful.”

“Rather than your resting bitch face?”

He laughed. “Quite.”

“Well. For all we know it’ll be the best of both of us.”

He sighed. “I surely hope so.”


	5. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo moves into the third trimester. Life changes forever.

The third trimester was not nearly as pleasant as the second. Ienzo felt heavy, unwieldy, his thought processes muddy and murky. At least the weather was no longer so unbearably hot. He was again exhausted, and it was very difficult to find pregnancy clothing that wasn’t feminine. Naminé thankfully came to the rescue and sewed some things for him.

How odd, to think they had family. Not just the blood or adopted relatives, but the friends, too. Riku was continually surprised to see him. “I keep forgetting,” he said honestly. His partners, Sora and Kairi, were almost more excited about the baby than he was. “Here you are. Going domestic.”

“I’ll certainly have no shortage of babysitters,” Ienzo said drolly. “Sora, if you post that selfie you won’t have a phone anymore. Thank you.”

He was finding it difficult to work normally. Getting up and down off of his high stool at the research desk was something of a chore. Considering how frequently he needed to move around, it was an issue. While he still did love feeling the baby move, especially as the further the pregnancy went the more he could distinctly feel each little limb, he no longer was quite so enamored with this state of being.

One afternoon he was feeling more tired and sluggish than normal. He was trying to fix some kind of issue with his personal computer, one that, were he not pregnant, he could solve within five minutes, but he couldn’t think straight. The frustration actually brought tears to his eyes, and he wasn’t able to blink them back this time. And once the tears started… they didn’t stop.

Demyx found him with his head in his hands on the couch. “Babe?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I feel so slow. So stupid.”

“It’s just the hormones,” he said. “You’re--”

“I know. I know it’s the fucking hormones.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“I know.” Demyx handed him a tissue. “Why don’t you lay down? I’ll make some dinner.”

He did… and he drifted. When he woke up he felt nauseous and feverish and there was an awful ache in his back that wouldn’t rub away. He sat up slowly, with the intent of searching these symptoms, only for the nausea to immediately escalate. He barely was able to grab the living room wastebasket in time. It couldn’t be morning sickness--it was far too late for that.

Something was wrong.

Demyx poked his head out of the bathroom. “Ienzo? What’s--oh. Oh, baby.”

The tears were back. Demyx rested a hand on his forehead. “You’re really warm.”

“I don’t feel right.”

“I know.”

Dizzily, he flicked his eyes back to the clock. It was late, too late to see a doctor. 

“Could it be a stomach bug?”

“Maybe--” He sniffled. Demyx took the sick from him and handed him a wet paper towel. 

“Why don’t you lay back down? We can get you to the doctor in the morning.”

Maybe it was because he was so weak, but he didn’t resist, and dipped in and out of consciousness.

“...thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure who else to call.”

“Of course. It’s been a long time since I practiced medicine, but I think I can manage.”

“He was crying. Ienzo  _ never _ cries. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“We’ll figure it out.” A cold hand on his face. “Ienzo? Love?”

He blinked. “Dad? What are you--”

“Demyx was worried about you. I am too.”

He tried to sit up, but Even eased him down. He was cold now, trembling. A thermometer was eased into his mouth. 

“You’ve got quite a fever,” he said. “What else do you feel? Other than the nausea and vomiting?”

“Something just doesn’t feel right,” he said thickly. “My back… hurts pretty badly.”

Even felt at his back, probing gently near the ribs. Ienzo winced. “Is that where it hurts?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. Well.” It was still pretty dark in here; all Ienzo could see was the curtain of his father’s hair. “Those are your kidneys. Seems a pretty straightforward infection to me.”

“...Kidney infection?” He blinked wearily. “How--”

“Perhaps you confused the frequent urination for mere pregnancy pressure. A normal mistake. Not to mention your immune system currently has a lot to keep up with.”

“But the baby--”

“I’m sure the baby will be fine. I  _ would _ like to get you to a hospital, though, to be safe.”

In a haze, Ienzo went with them. He was sweating like crazy, foggy and miserable. Even’s diagnosis was correct. They started him on IV antibiotics just to be cautious, and decided to observe him overnight due to the pregnancy. He had trouble getting into a comfortable position to sleep on the small hard bed. The baby seemed to sense his distress, kicking gently. Their heart rate seemed to be normal, judging by the monitors. The on-call OB had told him as much, and they would likely be fine.

He felt guilty. The thing he had the most control over--his body--had failed him. How could he possibly expect to be a good parent if he couldn’t even tell when he was  _ sick _ ? Again, he felt the tears and covered his mouth.

Demyx, half asleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair, stirred. “Ienzo? Are you in pain?”

“No,” he said. “I just--I didn’t know. How didn’t I know?”

“It’s not your fault.” He came over to the bed. 

“How can I possibly protect them when I can’t even protect them from my own body?”

“Babe, you’re spiraling,” he said. “You couldn’t have done anything differently. And you know what? You’re going to be a good dad.”

“How can you know that?”

His gaze was fervent. “Because of how much you care,” he said. “This whole time--even before you thought you were going to stay pregnant, you’ve been on top of it. The way you eat. The way you talk about them. And if it helps? I’m scared too.”

He wiped at his eyes. “You raised your sister.”

“That’s not starting from scratch, though. You and me? I think we can do it.” He kissed Ienzo’s sweaty forehead. “We can’t save them from everything. We just have to do our best.”

He hiccupped. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try.”

* * *

The more time passed, the harder it was to go about his daily life. Simple chores like laundry or cleaning took much longer, and he was often short of breath from the baby compressing his lungs. As much as Demyx tried to help, he also knew that Ienzo saw help as patronizing. September and October passed dizzily. Ienzo found himself often unable to sleep; if he were not getting up for the bathroom, he couldn’t get comfortable, or the baby would be moving too much to let him sleep. His nipples, despite there being very little breast tissue after the top surgery, ached, and he learned in his research he could still produce small amounts of milk. 

He spent a lot of these hours organizing and reorganizing things in the nursery. Logically, he knew it was nesting, an instinctive process, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He would sit in an old rocking chair--a relic from his childhood--with a pair of earphones around his stomach. As soon as Demyx learned the baby was starting to hear, he created dozens of playlists for them in utero. Truthfully, Ienzo did not mind. Some of these nights Demyx would come get him, coax him back into bed, and rub his back until he finally fell into a hesitant sleep.

Dr. Gainsborough told him he would likely need a C-section; the baby was getting too large to pass through his hips. Privately, Ienzo was relieved. He could deal with surgery. The ordeal of natural birth seemed humiliating. They scheduled this birth for November ninth. 

“That’s my lucky number,” Demyx said. “A good sign.”

He had to stop working earlier than he would have liked. Getting through the days was just too exhausting. He settled for doing what he could from home.

A few days before Halloween, he felt it, a thick, heady cramp that made him gasp out loud. But it passed quickly, just being a Braxton-Hicks. It happened a few more times, sporadically. “It’s not as if my body  _ knows _ the baby is being born surgically,” Ienzo assured a frantic Demyx. “It’s just practice. Lucky me.”

On the holiday itself, however, he woke up with one of those cramps, deeper than before.  _ They must be getting stronger the farther I get, _ he thought, wincing. Demyx was in class, and was due to work a Halloween concert in the evening. Ienzo had planned on spending the day with a few of his favorite gothic novels, and sleeping when he could.

This all changed when he stood up. He  _ felt _ it happen, a slight pinch between his legs before the wetness ran down them, releasing a pressure he hadn’t been fully conscious was there. Janice the cat padded over and sniffed at it curiously.

“Oh, no,” Ienzo said. “No, no. You’re early.” It didn’t surprise him; Demyx was notoriously an early riser. “No, kitty, you don’t want to drink that.” As he struggled to clean up both himself and the mess, he was weirdly calm--almost numb.

_ I’m in labor, _ he thought, as if thinking it would make him internalize the truth.  _ I’m in labor and I can’t give birth. _

He called his doctor first.

“This happens all the time,” she said. “Just get to the hospital when you can. Have someone drive you. You’re in no shape. It’s going to be okay, Ienzo.”

The contractions remained sporadic. The pain was… bracing, but he’d always had a high tolerance and dealt accordingly. As soon as he knew Demyx’s class was out, he called.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” Ienzo said. “I’m afraid I’m in labor. They’re going to move the c-section up to today. Can you come get me?”

“Can I come--” Ienzo heard him take a shaky breath. “Of course. Of course. Just relax. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He sat on the couch with the small bag he’d packed a few weeks ago. Janice kneaded his stomach gently, purring. “I suppose you know,” he said to the cat. He called his parents and told them as well.

“You were early too,” Even told him. “Your mother--bless her--tried to keep working. She said you liked being kept busy. I thought she was going to give birth right on that lab floor.”

“I’d hoped to--not have to feel this nonsense,” he said, through his teeth. 

“Are you sure you want to wait for Demyx? I can take you now.”

“The contractions are still pretty far apart. I want him to be there. He needs to be there.”

He waited.

How odd, it was to be in this state. In several hours this person would be out of him. It would be through with--save the next eighteen years. He contracted. He breathed. He felt the baby’s feet acutely as they moved, steadily, down. 

Demyx all but threw the door open. “How are you doing?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve had worse pain,” he said. 

Demyx helped him up gently. “When? How?”

“When I was in the fourth grade--” A contraction gripped him, and he needed to wait until it was over to finish the sentence. “I was riding bikes with friends. We were heading down a big hill. I lost control. Cracked my femur. That was far more awful.”

“We should go,” Demyx said. “Careful. Take your time.”

Ienzo was acutely aware that this was the last time it would only be the two of them in the apartment, and he felt an almost thick fear. 

It all seemed to be going slowly and quickly at the same time. He was admitted, Even came and worried over him anxiously, the hospital staff prepared the OR in maternity. Before he’d even fully accepted that he was about to give birth, he was being given the spinal block for the procedure and eased down onto the table. “Where are you?” Ienzo asked.

“I’m right here.” He felt Demyx take his hand. The light in here was blinding. A nurse set up the draping that would hide the reality of the surgery from him. “I’ve never been in an operating room before.”

“A good thing,” Dr. Gainsborough said. “Ienzo? You doing okay?”

“Quite--it’s just very bright.”

“Ah--sorry.” She moved a lamp. “Do you want me to tell you what I’m doing?”

“Demyx is squeamish,” he said wearily.

“But you’re the one giving birth,” Demyx said. “Birth. Holy fuck.”

“No,” he said. “No, it’s alright.”

They prepped him gently, chatting happily around him, about the fact that it was a Halloween baby. He felt oddly meditative, very calm. He wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the anesthetic. 

“You might feel some pressure,” Dr. Gainsborough said. “But that’s all you should feel.”

Surely enough, he could feel some tugging.  _ She’s taking them out of me _ , he thought dazedly. 

“There we go,” she said, a smile in her voice. “You’ve got a little girl.”

And then Ienzo heard her cry. It was this that startled him back fully into the present, a surge of endorphins forcing tears to his eyes.

“Everything looks great,” she said. 

After a moment--far too short and far too long in the same breath--a wrapped bundle was being brought to his face. Ienzo had to fight the urge to grab her, conscious of the fact that he was quite literally still being operated on. He placed a hand on her, straining to get a good look. 

Demyx brought her a little closer. He was crying freely. “Look at her,” she said. 

“I see. I see.” His voice was unsteady. “Hi, love. Oh.”

He planted a kiss onto his forehead. “You did it. Thank you.”   



	6. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo and Demyx adjust to new parenthood, and consider next steps.

It took entirely too long for the staff to get him cleaned up and settled. Ienzo almost didn’t want to let go of the baby. While logically he knew she was just another squish-faced newborn, he thought he’d never seen something so beautiful. For a long while he and Demyx passed her back and forth, holding her to their skin.

They could only remain in this private bubble for so long. There was the reality of friends, and family, eager to love the new (still unnamed) child.  _ No, _ Ienzo thought,  _ it’s still my turn.  _ He'd carried her nine months. He deserved more than a few hours getting to know her.

“She needs a name,” Ienzo said slowly. 

Demyx sighed and looked at their daughter. “Yeah, the nurses really want it done before we leave if possible,” he said. “I… I don’t know. I thought I would once I saw her.”

They traded names for a while, as if saying each would suddenly make it the right fit. 

Finally, Demyx cocked his head a little. “What about Emilie?”

“Emilie.” He looked down at the baby, fast asleep. “Emilie, Emilie.” He wasn’t sure how he knew, just that it felt right. “Yes. Okay.”

He was discharged the next day. How odd, to just  _ leave _ with the baby. His daughter. Ienzo thought he might be in something like shock. His body felt weirdly empty without her in it. He’d started to make those small amounts of milk, like he’d thought, which were forced out of him every time the baby cried. Not nearly enough to sustain her, just enough to require a sort of bra with nursing pads shoved into it. He’d also started to bleed, and even though he knew this was normal, and necessary for recovery, it caused him more emotional discomfort than the pregnancy had. Thankfully it was over within about ten days.

Demyx still tried to do everything for him. “You just had major surgery,” he pointed out. “Relax. It’s okay.”

But Emilie was a good baby, more or less. She wasn’t fussy. She stopped crying as soon as she got what she needed. Ienzo loved the way she felt in his arms. It was all so jarringly _natural_. He found himself infinitely glad he’d gone through with it.

“I knew you would,” Ansem said. Emilie was asleep, limp along his shoulder. “I know you enjoy logic, Ienzo, but people are not always logical.”

“This has been one very long learning exercise,” he admitted. “I never saw myself as much of a nurturer. Oh, here. She’s hungry. See? She’s smacking her lips.” He got up to warm some formula.

Ansem chuckled a little. “I suppose you must be dreading your return to work, then.”

He looked at his daughter. “No,” he admitted. “I very much miss it. The routine. I enjoy my work, the freedom it gives me. I’m just hoping… well. To instill in her the same love for books and learning you and father did for me.”

“I’m sure you will.” Ansem gently handed the baby to him to be fed. 

Ienzo eased the bottle into her mouth. “Besides, Aqua is a very forgiving boss. So long as I can do all my duties, I don’t think she’d mind if I brought Emilie now and again. She may like it. There are worse places to grow up than in a library.”

“And things are still going well with you and Demyx? Have they changed?”

“Well, of course. Baby makes three, and all that.” It had only been a few days ago, when Naminé came to take the baby for a few hours, that they’d been able to be intimate for the first time since he’d given birth. The passion, the fire was still there (despite their pent-upness making the encounter embarrassingly brief on both ends). But things were more complicated. The baby had to come first no matter what. Ienzo loved Demyx; the man was the love of his life. But if he had to choose it would be Emilie, hands down. “He’s a good father. We’ll adjust accordingly.” He bit his lip. “He offered to marry me.”

Ansem’s eyebrows shot up. “Did he, now?”

“...Quite.” He burped Emilie gently. “I suppose  _ this _ , right here, miss, is more of a commitment than that.” He kissed her cheek. 

“What did you say?”

“Ironically? I don’t think I’m ready. Commitment doesn’t scare me. But there’s no reason for us to be married, not yet. Maybe in a year or so, when the dust settles. That might be nice.”

“As long as you’re happy.”

“I am.” Looking into the blue-green eyes of his daughter, he realized it was true. “Honestly, I am.”

* * *

After his second--equally as revolting--period since the pregnancy, Ienzo restarted the testosterone. Once the hormones leveled back out, he felt much more himself, much clearer. He felt like he was able to be a better parent. Slowly, slowly, Emilie began to sleep through the night. He found that, strangely, he was no longer as much of an insomniac as he’d been his entire life, up to and including the pregnancy. He knew such things left permanent marks on the being, but for it to actually happen was fascinating. 

Demyx loved their daughter fiercely, as Naminé predicted. Sometimes Ienzo would come home from work and watch them through the crack in the nursery door, still in their own private world; he played and wrote so many songs for her, would have little conversations like she was much older than a few months. As a family, they went on outings together, to the park, to kid-friendly movies and theater. She began to develop her own personality, and Ienzo discovered that to his chagrin she was  _ just _ as stubborn as he was. If she didn’t like what she was given for lunch, she would sometimes throw it. Or scream just for screaming’s sake, as if in awe of her ability to make noise.

“Sweetie, I can relate,” Demyx said. “But you gotta stop. We have neighbors.”

It was clear there were going to be difficulties, small blips of conflict on an otherwise smooth tapestry. He and Demyx had to learn new ways of communicating, of connecting with one another. 

The summer after Emilie’s first birthday, he finally gave Demyx an answer on that proposal.

The wedding was small and felt more like a celebration of their family than their own love, in the smoothly manicured lawn behind his childhood home. “You know,” Ienzo said, as Demyx so slowly turned him around the makeshift dance floor, “When we met, I was convinced you were not my type.”

He laughed a little. “I believe that. What  _ was _ your type, then?”

“I don’t think I really knew,” he admitted. “Someone more like me? Erudite? Anxious?” He sighed. “Dating me sounds like a nightmare. Like coaxing a cat.”

Demyx kissed him. “I don’t know. To me it was pretty okay.”

“Yet you still married me.”

They both looked over towards Naminé, who had Emilie on one hip, dancing with her and making her laugh.

“They never got back to you after that, did they? Your parents,” Ienzo prompted. 

He jolted a little. “Well--no. Weird. If they disapproved… I’d hoped at least they’d care enough to yell at me. It’s been complete radio silence. Complete. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“I do,” Ienzo said. “Nothing. You did nothing wrong.”

Demyx shook his head. “I don’t need people like that in my life,” he said. “We’ve got so many good things, you know? Why get caught up in stupid drama of people who really don’t care?”

“That,” Ienzo said, “is rather wise.”

* * *

Shortly before Emilie turned two, he and Demyx were simply watching TV on the couch. They so rarely got to spend time together as a couple that despite the fact that the show was rather horrid, Ienzo enjoyed getting to hold him immensely. Demyx stroked his hair. 

"Hey," he said softly.

"What's on your mind?" Ienzo asked. He figured Demyx was angling towards intimacy.

"Do you…" He swallowed. "Do you want to have another baby?"

Ienzo turned to face him. "Another--" He hadn't considered this. Not at all. 

"Not--biologically. Unless you want to." He was shaking a little. "We could look into adoption. Maybe Emilie would want a sibling."

He thought about it. Their lives had just become normal again.

"Maybe not right now. Maybe--in a few years, or--" He exhaled. "What do you think?"

Ienzo considered. "I never had siblings, nor did I miss them," he admitted. "But… I'm not… averse to it. I need… to consider the options."

Demyx kissed him. "Of course."

* * *

Ienzo looked at his daughter and thought about it.

That pregnancy had been completely unintentional, but he loved her so much. He didn't think this love was possible. Did his heart have room for more than one? 

He thought about Demyx and Naminé, their relationship, that special bond. Emilie could have that. He thought of his own childhood, introverted and lonely. Would a sibling have helped?

How to go about this?

He wouldn't spontaneously get pregnant again, he knew. It would take work. Months of weaning off the testosterone, of letting his body's "natural" rhythm take over. Months of testing and trying.

He'd enjoyed the second trimester. He'd liked feeling Emilie move inside of him, that warm sense of nurturing. Was his temporary discomfort worth it? What would it be like to seek this deliberately?

He did love being a father.

"I'd be willing to try," Ienzo told Demyx after they had put Emilie down for the night. "But I warn you--this could take quite some time."

"You're sure you want to do it this way?"

"I've already defied the odds once," Ienzo said. "What's a second time?"

* * *

Still, it seemed very odd to deliberately ease off the hormones, to take prenatal vitamins, to prepare his body for this. It took months for his period to reestablish, too short and too long in a breath. He took ovulation tests, tried to track things as accurately as possible. How strange, to embrace this part of himself. Awful and empowering. 

They stopped using any form of contraception. Not always easy, to find the time to be alone. Gently cajoling any of their babysitters to take Emilie for the night helped.

One of these nights, Riku and Kairi had the baby. It did feel odd, for sex to have some kind of purpose other than pleasure. Not that he didn't like the excuse to be a complete hedonist.

"I wish I could do more," Demyx admitted. "I mean. This is pretty easy for me."

Ienzo laughed a little. "I think you can just keep doing what you're doing."

Demyx kissed his throat, his collarbone, easing off his shirt. Ienzo felt a shimmer of pleasure. "I do like getting to spend all this time with you."

"As do I," he said breathlessly. He slid his hand between Demyx's legs and heard a soft gasp. He moved gently along the fabric. Their sex might have a purpose now, but that didn't mean they didn't enjoy it. He eased him down onto the bed. Ienzo's clit began to throb, faintly. They undressed, clothing falling off shiveringly. He felt Demyx's hardened dick against his inner thigh and shuddered.

Demyx kissed him deeply and began to work the clit with one hand, almost too slowly, making him squirm. The feel of the calluses against those nerves causes him to gasp out loud, and he fumbled to touch Demyx's dick. For a moment they were nearly carried away before Demyx mumbled, "I thought we were trying for a baby."

"Right--yes--" He could feel the tightening in his belly and thighs. "You can--"

Demyx took him slowly. Ienzo was at a point where this fullness was needed, a sweet sort of ache. He tried to move his hips in rhythm with him. He did so like the rawness. He never realized how subconscious the fear of pregnancy was until he no longer had to worry about it. Ienzo threaded his hands through his husband's hair and urged him to move a little harder.

Demyx moaned and kissed his shoulder, his chest, running his tongue along Ienzo's nipple, a bright sensation that threatened to shatter him. He squeezed his eyes shut. His skin was becoming more sensitive, the tension building sweetly. Demyx slid a hand between them to touch his clit, teasing it. Ienzo felt him trembling, the thrusts becoming more urgent. 

He pushed harder against him and pulled Demyx into a kiss, feeling a shiver pass through him. He moaned a little. Ienzo felt the twitch, the warmth, all of it bringing him  _ so _ perilously close.

Demyx eased out of him and touched him again, stroking him in time with Ienzo's breath until he finally let go, hot then cool, a smooth release. "Can you put a… pillow under my feet?" He asked dazedly. "It helps the--chances."

Demyx obliged and pressed his lips against Ienzo's brow. "Does it feel weird? To  _ want  _ it in you?"

"No--if anything, it's a relief to not have to worry."

He touched his cheek. “Thanks for doing this,” he said softly. “I know it isn’t easy. If I could do it--I would.”

“I know you would,” Ienzo said evenly. “I liked being pregnant. It’s the… preparation, that’s uncomfortable. I figure… if nothing happens after a year, we should pursue other options.”

His brow furrowed. “A year is a long time for you to feel dysphoria.”

“Even without the testosterone--the worst part of it is always the bleeding.” He wrinkled his nose. “I can manage, Demyx. I did for years.”

“I know, but…” He kissed him once. “Hopefully it takes quickly.”


	7. Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo is pregnant again.

It did take a few months; months of rising hope, only to feel the cramping. Ienzo tried to pretend that it wasn’t getting to him, that he didn’t feel a failure. Hard work, to convince himself of it.

“I mean, the first time you got pregnant, you were on top,” Demyx said. Sex didn’t feel like a chore, but it surely wasn’t as spontaneous as it used to be.

“I  _ think. _ That wasn’t the only time we weren’t careful.” He slid off his underwear. “I’m not sure how long the movie is. We should probably get a move on.” Even and Ansem had taken Emilie to a children’s movie. 

“...Jesus. Feeling romantic much?”

Ienzo sighed. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled him into an embrace. “Hey,” he said softly. “Just relax. Don’t think so hard about it. Let’s just be together.”

Ienzo nodded. “Right.”

Demyx kissed him, pulling his hands through his hair. He led him over to the bed and lay down, running his hand along Ienzo’s thigh. “Focus on how you feel.”

He tried. Letting go of that stress was almost impossible. He tried to recall a simpler time, when their relationship hadn’t had any purpose other than loving one another. Demyx’s hand slid between his legs, touching gently, his thumb flicking along the clit, sending something like a current through him. “That is better,” he said.

“Come here.”

Ienzo straddled him. He felt a finger enter him, Demyx’s other hand tracing circles along his inner thigh. “You should--”

“It’s okay. Just relax.” He handled it slowly, a move that reminded Ienzo oddly of tides, eddying from one swell to the next. He gasped a little and clutched at the sheets below him. The feeling was getting stronger now, more electric.

“But I... want it.” He felt the blood rush to his face.

“Yeah?”

Ienzo took his dick against his hand. Begging was undignified, but it was rapidly getting to that point. Instead he just nodded.

“Okay. Okay. Sure, whatever you want.” He laughed.

He lifted his hips a little, enough for Demyx to slide the tip inside of him. Yes. This was the thoughtlessness he remembered from their earlier encounters. Ienzo began to move against him, gratifying in the small moan he heard.

“Do whatever you want,” Demyx mumbled. 

He had no trouble listening. He’d missed the ease of this. Every few thrusts he felt Demyx’s hand brush against his clit, only tightening the pit of urgency in Ienzo’s stomach. He took it a bit faster, a bit harder, and felt Demyx clutch at his hips. His back arched a little against the mattress.

It happened almost without warning, a sharp startling pleasure that made him feel vaguely weak. It seemed to startle Demyx, too; he heard a soft “fuck” before Ienzo felt the flush of warmth.

He eased off of him carefully, trying to keep the result inside of him. He tried not to think about what would happen if this didn’t work, and instead on the contentment he felt now, in the moment.

“God, I swear you make me have the stamina of a teenager,” Demyx muttered. 

“At least you got me off first,” Ienzo said, with a laugh. “The most important thing.”

He kissed him once. “I think we still have time for a glass of wine.”

He exhaled. “That sounds nice.”

* * *

Ienzo was again sitting at his desk at work. The day had been oddly stressful; a patron had been trying his patience. He figured he’d make himself some tea, perhaps check in with Emilie’s daycare teacher. When he stood, however, he felt a thick wave of vertigo that had him catch the counter.

Wait.

He looked at his calendar, backtracked, looking for the last little mark he’d made-- 

He was late, by three days.

He inhaled sharply. His period had naturally been irregular since he’d eased off the testosterone. No point getting his hopes up. It would probably come back with a vengeance the moment he relaxed. No point mentioning this to Demyx, either. 

A few more days trickled past. The dizziness continued to come and go, and one evening while he was making Emilie’s favorite dinner of broccoli and noodles, the smell made him heave.

He wondered.

Ienzo moved slowly, as though he might shake it free. He went to the drugstore under the guise of getting some ibuprofen, bought the test. His mind was curiously blank. Demyx was on the couch, playing with their daughter. Thankfully his water with dinner was enough to make him need to urinate. 

To think there’d be a time when he  _ wanted _ anything other than a negative response. He took the test, set it aside. Looked at his watch until the requisite time passed, trying to smother the hope that had started to grow, stubbornly. He shut his eyes. Took a breath. Picked up the piece of plastic.

This was a different test than the last one he’d bought, the results a little less clear. He had to reach for the instructions to figure out what the two lines meant.

Pregnant.

He took a shaky breath, staring at the second of the two lines, as if looking at it long enough would make it spontaneously disappear. Ienzo stood. Slowly. Opened the door.

“Alright in there?” Demyx asked. 

“Come here a moment,” Ienzo said.

“...be right back, sweetie,” he heard. Demyx appeared in the doorway. “What’s up?” His eyes flickered over the paper, still on the floor. The box. “Wait--”

Ienzo offered the stick. “It worked,” he said. “It really--I’m having another baby.”

Demyx stared at it. “Oh,” he said softly. He blinked quickly. “Oh my god.”

“I’ll… check again, to be sure,” he said. “See a doctor. But… I’ve been having the same dizziness, the nausea. I think I really am.”

His eyes were watering. “Oh, Ienzo. I--I love you.” He drew him into his arms. “Another baby.”

Ienzo sagged into the embrace, a relief he hadn’t let himself feel overtaking him. He pretended it was the hormones making him cry.

* * *

Dr. Gainsborough again confirmed he was pregnant. Ienzo wondered if this was how he should have felt when he was first pregnant with Emilie--a strong joy. The weeks seemed to pass more quickly with this one, through the nauseous haze of the first trimester. He again felt that delight, that pleasure.

Though juggling it all on top of his already-living child wasn’t easy.

Emilie seemed to intuit the change in Ienzo even before he started showing. She would rather cuddle than wrestle, would pat his cheek as he came back from getting sick. “Daddy okay?” she’d ask. 

Their friends and family received the news warmly, and with good humor. “You really went for another one,” Riku said dryly. “What is it, one of your kinks?” 

They started looking for another, larger apartment to accommodate the new baby. With the added stress of moving, Ienzo knew they’d have to tell Emilie. So one rainy afternoon, they sat her down. 

“Do you know how daddy’s been tired and sick lately?” Demyx asked her. 

She nodded sagely.

“Well, you see, it’s because I have a secret,” Ienzo said in a low voice. “I’m growing a baby.”

“Growing?” she asked.

He pressed a hand to his stomach. “Right here. Like I did just for you before you were born.”

“I come from here?” She touched it.

“Yes. And when the baby’s done growing they’ll be your little sibling.”

She furrowed her tiny eyebrows, looking, for a moment, just like Demyx when he was confused. “How it get in there?” she asked.

Demyx stifled a laugh. “That’s another secret,” he said, holding a finger to his lips. “Only grown ups get to learn that magic.”

“I want to learn now.”

Ienzo looked at Demyx. “I don’t know, do you think we should tell her?”

He considered. “Mm, maybe, but Emilie’s not good at keeping secrets.”

“Am!” she insisted.

Demyx shook his head. “I don’t know. You narced on me to daddy about giving you chicken nuggets for dinner.”

“Am, am!”

He lifted her up on his lap. “Alright,” he said conspiratorially. “See, daddy has a tiny tiny little egg. Like a bird’s. When it’s ready, it grows into a baby. And I help him do that.”

She wrinkled her nose; she seemed disappointed. “Oh,” she said. “Okay. Baby.”

“So you have to be real gentle with daddy.”

“I know,” she said. She patted Ienzo’s stomach once. “Hi baby.”

* * *

Their new apartment was in an older building, but had more light. Getting rid of the last of Demyx’s bachelor things felt odd. They retrieved Emilie’s baby furniture and put it in the third bedroom; Ienzo caught her napping in the crib more than once, afraid that she might get jealous of the baby. “It’s okay, we can share,” she said to him. She did like to feel it move, when he became larger; her little eyes would get huge. “Them hurt you?” 

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” he told her. “You were like this too.”

“I hatched?”

He laughed a little; she kind of had, in a manner of speaking. “No, you were born.”

“Oh,” she said. “I wish I hatched.”

Ienzo kissed her forehead. 

* * *

This baby was smaller than Emilie; though not abnormally so. He was told that, should he wish it, he could try to give birth to it naturally, though in a hospital should there need to be medical intervention. Ienzo didn’t wish it. This child was due in August. The third trimester left him in as much of a haze as it had the first time; on more than one occasion he had to stop himself from snapping at everyone, not always completely successful. Once he yelled at Emilie for getting finger paint on the floor, paint he then proceeded to slip on, only barely catching himself. He’d never raised his voice at her before, and it scared them both; she started to cry. Guilt washed over him, heady and awful. He knelt and took her into his arms.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, over and over again. “Daddy’s just tired. You did nothing wrong.”

“Why baby make you mean,” she said against his breast. “They need out now. Give me daddy back.” 

Early August brought with it hurricane season. Most of the storms only gave rain, though one seemed to be more potent than the last. Even and Ansem insisted that they stay with them. “You’ll be more comfortable,” Ansem said. Ienzo knew they really just wanted to help with Emilie. He was too tired not to take the invitation.

And truthfully? It was a relief, to have his fathers look after her, and Demyx was on break at the college. Even claimed it was much-needed bonding time. He would lay on his bed in his childhood bedroom, which still had vague hints of the person he’d once been; the plastic stars on the ceiling (semi-realistic constellations), the scribbled Anarchy symbol hidden behind a dresser (which Demyx teased him about mercilessly when he found it while unpacking), his teenage self’s favorite books still on the shelf. Demyx would rub his back and feet until he fell asleep, hesitantly, again constantly woken by the baby’s movement, the need to pee. 

On the second rainy day of one of these hurricanes, the wind kicked up. Emilie watched it with interest, the way it battered the trees by the window. Even picked her up and started explaining weather; she watched him with interest.

Ienzo picked listlessly at a cold lunch, sweaty and irritable.

“Did you get any sleep?” Ansem asked. 

“Not much, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “The baby was very active last night.  _ Now _ they’re asleep.” He rested a hand on the bump. 

“So go lay down for a few hours,” Ansem told him. “I think we can manage.”

“I feel terrible,” Ienzo said. “You’ve been looking after her nonstop--”

“I think we both love the opportunity to spoil our granddaughter,” he said gently. “Your husband’s helping too, don’t forget.”

“Helping? More like parenting,” Demyx added, from the sink. 

“Quite.” He smiled. “Rest, Ienzo. You’re going to need it.”

He sighed. “Alright.” He stood and felt it, a heady, sudden cramp; he almost doubled over. “Just a Braxton-Hicks,” he explained, to all the stricken expressions. “Truly. This happened before. It’ll pass.”

As he lay in bed, the storm worsened; he could hear the wind whistling. The power flickered. He could just so barely hear Demyx tell Emilie mock ghost stories, making her screech with a delighted sort of fear. 

Another cramp gripped at Ienzo. He took a breath. It would pass. But it was different. They were already thick and deep, not like the whispers of the first Braxton-Hicks he’d had. He sat up slowly. “Are you early, too?” he asked this baby. “Or are you messing with me?”

The next one that came had him gasping out loud, not more than fifteen minutes later. Shakily, he stood. He wasn’t sure why he made himself walk down the stairs instead of just texting someone.

“Why are you up?” Even asked sourly. “It’s alright, Ienzo.”

Anxiety made him shiver. “I…”

Ansem very tactfully led Emilie out of the room. Demyx came over to him. “You’re all sweaty.”

“I believe these contractions are real,” he said, as another one began to gnaw at him. 

“Are you certain?” Even asked. “It’s too soon.”

“Only by two weeks,” he said. “Emilie was two weeks early as well.” 

Demyx squeezed his hand tightly. “We just have to get you to the hospital. That’s all.”

“In this weather?” Even asked. “How far apart are they?”

“About fifteen minutes--sporadic,” he said. Demyx helped him sit on the couch. 

He tutted. “Well, I’m afraid you might have to wait this out for a few hours,” he said. “It’s due to blow over in a bit, according to the news.” 

It didn’t.

* * *

As the hours passed, the contractions grew so steadily closer. Ienzo could feel Demyx’s anxiety rising. He rubbed Ienzo’s hand until it felt somewhat raw. “I hate seeing you in pain,” he said.

“I’ll pull through,” Ienzo said, gasping a little. “Imagine the story. The  _ drama _ .”

“How long was it between?” Even asked. He came back with a wet cloth for Ienzo’s forehead. 

“About eight minutes,” Demyx said. 

Even looked back out the window. It was growing dark out now, but the rain was still violent. “I should try calling EMS. See if it’s possible for them to get out here.”

"The streets were all flooded on the news." Ienzo exhaled. “She did say this baby was smaller.”

“Let’s not take risks if we don’t have to,” Even said, patting his leg. 

“But we might have to,” Ienzo said, with a trace of panic. “It’s getting--close.”

Demyx bit his lip. 

Even seemed to make some kind of decision. “I know this isn’t ideal, and rather humiliating,” he said. “Let me look at you and see where things are.”

Ienzo tried to take a deep breath, a contraction making him wince. “I… suppose…”

Even nodded once. “I’ll go get some gloves.”

“I admit,” he said, when Even was gone, “I didn’t think this day would end with my father seeing my genitals.”

“He’s a doctor,” Demyx said. “I mean. If you feel better, would you want me to do it?”

This was meant to make him laugh; he could only smile wearily. He lay back on the bed and slipped off his underwear, feeling exposed, like a piece of meat. Admittedly, he tried to dissociate while Even prodded at him. “You’re at about six centimeters,” he said. 

“What does that mean?” Demyx asked.

“Basically, we’re fucked,” Ienzo said, the panic clamping down now in earnest. “Once you get to a certain stage--it’s been hours.”

Even threw away the gloves. He, again, looked back out the window. “You might have to be brave,” he said softly. “I  _ will _ call someone. See if it’s possible to get you to a hospital. Don’t move.”

Demyx stroked his hair. “It’s going to be okay,” he said.

“What if they--get stuck?” Ienzo asked breathlessly. “What if--”

“That’s not going to happen,” Demyx said. “The doctor thinks you can do it.”

“The doctor,” Ienzo said. “Get me my phone. I’ll--”

Demyx obeyed. When Ienzo tried to call, though, there was no signal, further confirmed when Even came back. “I can’t get a call out with all the rain,” he said. His expression was neutral, but Ienzo could see the concern in his eyes. “We can see how you fare. But remember. I  _ do _ have experience with this.” He patted Ienzo’s knee. 

“What if it gets stuck?” Ienzo asked again.

Even considered. “I’m positive that, should that happen, I could… handle the situation accordingly.”

Demyx flinched. 

“Do you trust me?”

Ienzo blinked the tears out of his eyes. “Yes.”

The contractions only got worse from there, closer together. Ienzo could  _ feel _ the baby shifting, getting in position. For a while he stood limply swaying against Demyx in a bathrobe in a vain attempt to get comfortable. And the storm continued. His water broke. Demyx sang to him, nonsense songs to try and comfort him, but Ienzo could tell his own panic was only slightly at bay. 

Ten centimeters. He felt vaguely dissociated. 

“You’ll probably feel the urge to push,” Even said. “Don’t fight it.” He set some clean towels on the bed, above some plastic sheeting. He’d been digging for some time for medications, for instruments. “Your father’s keeping an eye on emergency services." He scowled. "It was _his_ idea to get rid of the landline. Once this rain lets up a little the signal should improve."

Truthfully, Ienzo  _ did _ feel a vague squeezing in his middle.  He lay down. “And if I start feeling it?”

“Then bear down hard on a contraction and breathe between.”

Demyx touched his face, his cheek. “You can do this.”

Ienzo squeezed his hand. 

Well.

The urges grew stronger. It felt weird, oddly primal, to do this. The pain was so intense as to be unnoticeable. He could hear them both encouraging him, but he was not in his proper mind to do anything other than try to get this baby out of him. 

“I can feel them, Ienzo,” Even said. “It looks like it’s going to be okay.”

It was this relief that gave him the strength to push harder--

“The head is born. Do you feel it? Just one more for me.”

He did feel it--it was one of the most surreal sensations of his whole life. Then that final pull, the final burst, and they left him. 

“You did so well,” Demyx said to him. “Holy fuck, Ienzo.”

All he could do was lean against him, exhausted and feeling the echoes of labor and, well, weeping. He heard the baby gasp and cry. Even laid them across his chest. 

“A boy,” he said, with pride, “unless he determines otherwise.”

It seemed like all went as well as it could’ve--until he tried to deliver the placenta. Ienzo knew instantly something was wrong. A sharp pain, a tearing. “Take the baby,” he said. 

“What’s wrong?” Demyx asked. He wrapped him in another towel. 

“Take him. Take--” He reached down before Even could swat his hand away. It came back bloody.

His father went ashen. “A hemorrhage,” he said. “It’s okay, Ienzo. It’s going to be okay.”

The blood seemed so bright against the white towel. Demyx held their son tightly, his eyes wide with fear.

“Get him out,” Ienzo said. “He doesn’t need to see this.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Ienzo could woozily see Even making something on the dresser, something with a rubber glove--he felt it poke into him. “I’m sorry, love,” Even said, and for the first time he saw how frazzled and terrified he also was. 

“What--” Demyx asked, frozen. 

“A makeshift bakri balloon, for the bleeding. I know this must be painful. I know.”

He felt dizzy. He knew he should tell Even this. 

“Seems to be working, thank god--”

Then Demyx, “I got through. Someone picked up. I need help--my husband just had a baby--”

“Ienzo?” Even prompted.

“I feel… I feel so…”

Not so much blackness as grayness, a sort of quasi-consciousness. When he woke fully he was in a hospital bed. It was still raining. He blinked. He felt horrifically sore, feeling the pull of both stitches and an IV.

“Ienzo?” Demyx’s voice. “Hey. Hey.” He sounded teary.

His vision wouldn’t quite sharpen; his hair was in his eyes. “The baby--”

“He’s fine. I'm holding him. He's asleep.”

He tried to turn his head to see their son, a squish-faced bundle. Demyx eased him gently into Ienzo's arms. “How long have I been out?”

“In and out for a few hours,” Demyx said. He kissed his forehead. “I was so--terrified. We all were. You needed a few transfusions.”

“And the baby?”

“He’s fine. They put him on antibiotics just in case.”

“How’s that for a story,” he murmured.

Demyx laughed, still freely crying. 

* * *

It took him longer to recover from this birth, both the hemorrhage and the process itself. His whole lower body was tender, achy, and even something so simple as going to the bathroom was now an ordeal. Ienzo was constantly exhausted. He took solace in the fact that their son was healthy, though he did--unfortunately--seem to have inherited Ienzo’s hair.   
  
“You need rest above all,” Even said. “Physically that was rather traumatic. You mustn’t push yourself.”

He was again making milk; he could feel it beading along his bra. Ienzo was oddly weepy, moreso than the last time. He figured that hormonally he was a disaster. He didn’t want to let go of their son, and when she visited, Emilie. Their presence comforted him. They decided to name him Adrian, a name that, just like Emilie’s, seemed to just  _ fit _ . 

“Oh, baby,” she said, as though with revelation. “Hello. Good baby.”

Even when he was home, it took Ienzo days to do little more than putter around, only capable of changing diapers and feeding the baby. Emilie would bring him toys, pillows, as though this might help. Demyx had told her to be gentle with both of them. “Growing a baby is very tiring,” he said. 

But again there was that sense of comfort, holding him and smelling his little head. The pain and the worst of the fatigue faded. “Though one thing is certain,” Ienzo said, “I am  _ not _ going through that again.”

Demyx kissed him. “I don’t think I would let you,” he said. “I think about that moment too much. I--you were so pale. So pale and so _still_.”  
  
Ienzo sighed. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Like it was your fault? I… I don’t want to lose you. Nothing is worth that.”

He looked down at the baby, at Emilie drawing quietly in the corner. “No. I need to be here for them, for as long as I can. I just hope things will go back to normal.”  
  
“A new normal, maybe,” Demyx said. “Oof, it seems like someone needs a change.” He took Adrian from him. “Come on, little man.”  
  
Life ebbed neatly after that. Once Emilie began preschool, and after that kindergarten, they were able to redefine their relationship again. She was a smart girl, much to Even’s delight; not to mention artsy, much to Naminé’s. She was a good sister, gentle with the baby, and would always tell one of them when he cried. They all had things they wanted to teach her, to help her understand an ever-evolving and chaotic world. 

Ienzo still worried. About school, about sicknesses, bumps, aches and pains. All he knew was that when Emilie would deign to be cuddled with, feeling that and hearing the occasional “I love you, daddy,” made it all worth it.

It started with a dilemma, but it ended filling a void he hadn’t been conscious of, one he later consciously sought. He realized that before he met Demyx he’d been living too timidly, almost afraid of his own skin. It was necessary to break the rules to achieve anything more than blandness. Simply put, for the experiment to be a success, it had to be helped along by a new, unexpected variable.

Looking at his husband, his children, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 


End file.
